Page 38 of The Reluctant Mate (Shifters of the Three Rivers #5)

Chapter thirty-eight

Sofia

S unlight cut across Lucian’s office in sharp, golden blades. I blinked awake, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar leather couch beneath me and the quiet murmurs of the city outside. It wasn’t the faint thrum of the world waking that had my focus, though.

No, it was the warmth strumming through my body—the arm slung over my waist, the solid weight pressed protectively against my back, and the soft, even breaths of the person sleeping beside me. Derek. He’d slept peacefully all night, holding me close.

I clutched the blanket—one I had no memory of finding last night when exhaustion had finally claimed us. My wolf stretched languidly beneath my skin, then settled with a contented sigh that vibrated through my chest.

Mate. Ours, she purred.

Yes, I agreed, and meant it with a fierceness that surprised me. If Derek tried to leave again, I would hunt him down and handcuff him to me. No more running. No more doubts. This was it.

Derek stirred, his arm stretching across my stomach like we’d done this a thousand times before, like his body had been crafted to fit against mine. It felt so natural. So right. Was this what Mai felt when she was with Ryan?

I turned slowly, careful not to wake him, planning to untangle myself, but the moment I moved, Derek’s fingers twitched against my hip, his eyes snapping open, already alert.

“Hmm.” The sound rumbled from his chest, his voice rough with sleep and something else that sent heat racing down my spine. His eyes focused, sharpening as they found mine. His lips curved into that half-smirk that had always undone me.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Goddess, did I love that. The sound of his voice first thing in the morning, the smell of him, hot and muzzy with sleep. His eyes on me like I was everything he’d dreamed of, and he’d woken to find I wasn’t a dream after all.

“How are you feeling?” His hand reached up to stroke my cheek as his eyes searched mine. “No regrets?”

Did I regret what we’d done? Did I want to wind back time and stop myself from sealing our mate bond? Hell no. But words were easy. Actions were what mattered now. Starting with this whole situation with the USB.

“No regrets,” I whispered softly. “But us, you and me, we start here. I want you to tell me everything.”

“Everything?”

My fingers traced the hard line of his jaw, still in awe that I could touch him whenever I wanted.

“No more secrets, Derek. That was the deal. Start with why they want this USB back so badly.”

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his already chaotic hair. His expression shifted, all traces of sleep vanishing as he laid out the truth about Victor Kane, Simon Webster, and what Waylen had found on the USB.

“Wait.” I pushed myself up on one elbow. “A decorated officer like Kane working with a witch? Why would someone so aggressively pro-human align with what he’d consider an abomination?”

Derek mirrored my position, his eyes never leaving mine as he twined a strand of my hair between his fingers.

“Because hatred makes strange bedfellows. They want the same endgame—Shifters controlled, tamed, stripped of power and freedom.” His voice hardened. “Caged or eliminated.”

My mind raced, connecting dots. Lucian’s politician talking about segregation in the conclave cities. Mrs. Patterson’s asshole son, Don, wanting her to move out of Three Rivers, a place she’d lived her entire life.

“They’re manufacturing a war,” I said, the realization crystallizing with sickening clarity. “Creating just enough fear, just enough chaos to turn humans against us. Frame us as dangerous, unpredictable predators.” Heat burned under my skin as the full picture emerged. “And once public opinion turns…”

“It’s open season,” Derek finished, his hand stilling in my hair. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to my forehead, his breath warm against my skin. “Yeah.”

That single word confirmed my fears. I’d wanted him to tell me I was overreacting, that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. But the grim certainty in his voice left no room for comforting lies.

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked, hating the slight tremor in my voice.

“Protect you. Protect Three Rivers. Then we hit back.” His jaw set in that stubborn line I knew too well.

I tilted my head. “You know, for a hot-shot intelligence guru, that’s not a very detailed plan.”

His smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “In my defense, I have been somewhat distracted.”

My eyes traveled down his face, lingering on the fullness of his lips, the sharp cut of his jaw, the powerful expanse of his chest—his body that somehow belonged to me now.

“Mmmm.” He wasn’t the only one who could get distracted.

“We have to go back,” I said. All thoughts of staying here or heading south were gone. Three Rivers was my home, and it needed me. “I won’t let them take it from us.”

Before Derek could respond, the door swung open with a slow, deliberate creak. Darla appeared, balancing an enormous silver tray piled with enough food to feed a small Pack. Her arctic-blue eyes swept the room, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.

“Well,” she drawled, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arching toward her hairline, “looks like you two had an interesting night.”

Heat flooded my face as I finally registered the devastation surrounding us. Lucian’s meticulously organized office resembled a war zone. Papers carpeted the floor like snow. His imposing desk listed to one side, a jagged crack splitting one leg. A shattered tablet lay discarded against the far wall.

Even the leather couch beneath us hadn’t escaped—cushions askew, frame slightly off-kilter, the blanket barely preserving our modesty. My stomach dropped as I imagined Lucian—obsessively orderly, pathologically precise Lucian—seeing what we’d done to his sanctuary.

A pulse of amusement radiated through me that wasn’t mine. I whipped my head toward Derek, narrowing my eyes. I couldn’t tell if he found the destruction hilarious or my mortification entertaining, but the fact that I could feel his emotions coursing through me like they were my own was unsettling. This bond thing was going to require serious adjustment.

Derek shot me a quick grin, laughter dancing in his eyes, making me think he knew precisely what I was feeling, too.

Damn it.

He stretched with feline grace, entirely unconcerned by the destruction or our audience.

“Worth it,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Lucian can bill me for the damages.”

“Bill you?” Darla snorted, setting the tray down on the only stable corner of a side table. “That’s adorable. Lucian doesn’t bill—he murders. Slowly. Artistically.”

Derek shrugged, clearly unfazed.

“So,” she said, eyeing a painting hanging at a precarious angle, “I take it you won’t be staying with us. You made your decision, yes?”

I lifted my chin and smiled, but before I could reply, Derek’s phone buzzed. His face was grim as he snatched the phone off the floor.

“Derek, you got incoming!” Sam’s voice blared through the line, tight with urgency. “You have to move. Now!”